


The Gryffindor, the Slytherin, and the Wardrobe

by Maizeysugah



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Fluff and Crack, Humor, M/M, Romance, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-30
Updated: 2015-06-30
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:02:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,307
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4241655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Maizeysugah/pseuds/Maizeysugah
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fluff, Crack!Fic, Challenge by Lady Diablo: Super!Crackfic!Challenge  Q. “Wow, well…that looks uncomfortable”</p><p>Draco finds himself standing in the most disgusting flat in London, forced to choose the least comfortable place in it in order to shag his man-candy Harry in a place that hasn't been touched by a Mudblood.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Gryffindor, the Slytherin, and the Wardrobe

Fluff, Crack!Fic, Challenge by Lady Diablo: Super!Crackfic!Challenge  
**Q. “Wow, well…that looks uncomfortable”**  
  
  
  
Checking and rechecking the slip of paper in his hand, Draco Malfoy shuddered inwardly at the shambles of the flat he was now standing in front of. “Oh Merlin, this cannot be the right place.” No one would willingly live there. It was a travesty to the eyes and noses of anyone who might be forced to look at it. Subconsciously, he brushed some invisible insects and grime away from his shoulders and rapped on the door.  
  
“It’s open,” a voice said from the other side. Of course it was open, who would bother trying to break into this horrid place? Draco eyed the greasy doorknob, cringing. After a bout of nervous pacing and self-coaxing preparation, he used the address in his hand to open the door.   
  
Closing his eyes to whisper a simple prayer, he let the door shut behind him. The miniscule sitting room he was now standing in was not completely deplorable, but was certainly in no way fit for living. There was dust coating every surface where dust could attach itself to. The carpet had probably never been graced with a hoover, and the furnishings looked as if they were swiped from someone’s rubbish.   
  
“We’re going to be late,” he said in an almost breathless tone. Everything surrounding him smelled of stale beer or sweat socks. He was having great trouble adjusting, questioning his lack of masculinity whist standing in this aberration of a manly flat.   
  
“Yeah, whatever, I’ll be out in a minute.”   
  
The instant Harry Potter appeared in view, Draco threw his hands up to stop him. “No! Turn around, go back in there and put that outfit on that I bought you last week.” It was not a request. He was affronted beyond all reasoning. “And don’t you dare tell me that Weasel burned it like you did about the other at lunch.”  
  
Harry looked down at his body, shrugging at all of the fuss. They were going to see a film; there was no need to dress up. A t-shirt and jeans were perfect for the weather. And as sexy as Draco looked, that did not mean Harry had to mimic him. He pretended not to notice exactly how sexy Draco looked standing there, opting to feign ignorance instead. “What’s wrong with what I have on?”   
  
The age-old argument was about to begin. Draco could feel his temples throb. Harry was just so blasé about fashion. “Well…if you remember, we talked about this. I said I wanted to have a drink after. I don’t think it’s too much to ask my boyfriend to attempt to look presentable once in a while.”  
  
“Ex-boyfriend. Ex,” Harry added pointedly. He glanced surreptitiously to the wall of beer cans he and Ron had accumulated the night before. “I don’t drink anymore.”  
  
Draco stepped closer and knocked the wall of them down with a single sweep of his hand. “So I see…and smell.”  
  
“That was all Ron,” he lied. He pushed back the lengthy fringe from his face and tucked it behind his ear, revealing the evident blush on his cheeks.   
  
Beginning to feel the signs of a panic attack approaching, Draco found it impossible to keep from commenting. “Do you or Ron ever think about maybe cleaning your home…or something? Do they not allow wands in this place? What do they call those things that knock buildings down?”  
  
“Sod it, I’m not going.” Harry turned tail and re-entered the bedroom to change his clothes.   
  
Draco tensed up fully, feeling the great urge to scream. Instead, he threw a hand up over his eyes and felt his way around toward the bedroom. “He’s not in here is he?” he said in a panicked voice, fearing he might catch a glimpse of Ronald Weasley naked.   
  
“No, don’t be silly,” Harry hissed.   
  
“Please tell me this room is cleaner,” mumbled Draco, peeking through his fingers. His hand fell away and his jaw dropped as he caught sight of the bed Harry was sitting on. One bed… There was only one. “Er…”  
  
“What’s wrong?” Harry stood up and tugged his trousers over his hips. His glimmering green eyes were full of naivety. “What did I do now?”  
  
The room itself was slightly cleaner. The bedding was not tucked, but the floor was free of debris and smelled rather nice. It smelled a lot like Harry. “Where do you sleep?”  
  
Harry gestured to the bed. “I sleep here.”  
  
Draco forgot to bite his tongue, so the words literally shot from his mouth. “And where does Ron sleep?”  
  
Again, Harry gestured to the bed. There was a glint of malice in his beautiful eyes that tore at Draco’s nerves. “Ron sleeps right here.”  
  
Draco carded his shaky fingers through his hair. “So you and he…you share…bed.” The words stuck like peanut butter in his mouth.   
  
“Yes, we share the bed. It’s so bloody hot, doll. He sleeps in it at night while I'm out hunting down Death Eaters, and I sleep in it during the day while he's doing it,” said Harry with a wink. “I get dressed while he gets undressed. I take a shower after he takes a shower. But sometimes we eat  _together_ …We might even share a toothbrush occasionally.”  
  
“Sarcasm noted, prat.” Immediately regretting his words, Draco dropped to a knee in front of the now properly dressed young man. He gripped Harry’s hand and kissed it several times. “Come home. I’m so sorry, baby. Please come home.”  
  
Harry blinked, dying to let Draco ravish him but holding back on principle. He threw his hands up while looking around the room. “And leave all this?”   
  
“Please, please, please. I swear I’ll never tell you what to wear again or make you comb your hair until it lies flat. I’ll let you put your feet up on the coffee table. You can cast your silly charms on the plants instead of watering them and giving them love. I’ll allow Mudbl-knowitall-G-g-granger to visit. Whatever you want, Harry, name it.”  
  
Harry removed his glasses to pinch the bridge of his nose. Draco was on the right track, but did he really mean it? “It’s not that easy. Those are good suggestions, but it’s your overall attitude is what caused this.”  
  
Draco’s worried expression fell flat. “And moving in with the Weasel is going to fix it?”  
  
Harry cupped his hand, giving it a soft pat. It was much too fun watching Draco squirm so awkwardly to stop now. “No. I left you, remember? I don’t want it fixed. You stay your nasty old self and remain happy, and I’ll start over here where no one expects perfection.”  
  
Draco’s heart sunk in his chest. “But I’m not happy. I wasn’t happy when I nagged and berated you either. I was happy when we were in love and did everything together and could talk to each other all day and night. I want that back, Harry. I want you back.”  
  
“That would be nice.” Harry pulled his hand away, putting up a decent amount of chilly air between them. “But it isn’t going to happen. You can’t control yourself and I can’t take the harassment any longer.”  
  
“Why are you acting so vile tonight? You promised me you’d listen to what I had to say without interrupting,” Draco reminded him.  
  
“Ooh, now I’m an interrupter. Oh gods, look at me!” Harry cried out, throwing his hands up in defeat when he realised he'd changed his clothes for him... again. “I still dress how you want me to!”  
  
“Well,” Draco said sexily, getting to his feet and kicking the door shut behind him. “You don’t have to wear that. You don’t have to wear anything at all, we could-” He pulled back the slightly greying duvet from the bed, and more beer cans tumbled onto the floor. He tried so desperately to ignore them, pumping the tension away by making fists behind his back.  
  
“That was definitely Ron,” Harry promised, kicking the cans under the bed. “Erm, Hermione wouldn’t take him back and he and I sort of tried to make him forget-”  
  
“Wait,” Draco stammered out, looking back at the bed, seeing the stains on the sheets and the spent condom lying on the window sill. There were little lacy panties hanging off of the bedstead. Draco felt himself teeter in semi-consciousness. “You uhh…make him forget…knickers…”  
  
Harry groaned. “Oh, for the love of--I kipped on the settee. Hermione showed up at around midnight last night.”  
  
Draco shuddered hard. He glanced back at the dirty sheets with revulsion. “So that’s Weasel and G-gg-granger’s doing? Well that throws a spoke into everything.”   
  
The rest of the room consisted of piles of soiled clothing and a small wardrobe with the drawers hung open. There was no way in hell he was going seduce Harry on that filthy Mudblood-covered bed. Draco opened the door and looked back into the sitting room, gaping at the settee Harry mentioned sleeping on the night past. “Harry, there’s a pizza on it face-down, stuck to the cushions. Did you say you slept there last night?”  
  
“Oh, is that what that was?” Harry picked a pair of shorts to examine them, giving them a sniff. “Merlin’s beard, it is pizza!”  
  
Gripping his wrist, Draco tried to remove Harry from the room. “You’re coming home—now!”  
  
Harry fought back, digging his heels into the damp carpet. “No! We’ve been through this! I have prove my point to you before I—” The words slipped before he could stop them, giving Draco pause. They fell apart, and Harry cringed with averted eyes. “Er, I mean I think we’re missing the film. We should go.”  
  
“So,” Draco said darkly, squaring his shoulders as he faced Harry down, “You’re proving a point to me by making me suffer, aren’t you? Well it’s worked, git. I’ve gone out of my way to change for you. Now it’s your turn.”  
  
Taking a deep breath and inadvertently inhaling the foul scent of the flat’s interior, Harry began to choke. Dust and little hairs caught in his throat. He coughed and sputtered for a moment, attempting to pull it off as allergies. “They just mowed the grass out there, it gets into the air.”  
  
“No, they haven’t,” Draco informed him, having waded through the waist-high jungle to reach the front door only minutes before. He could not help but grin at the adorable flush of embarrassment spreading on Harry’s cheeks.   
  
Harry lowered his head with a giggle, hiding his pretty face from the gorgeous blond. “All right, maybe I do want to come home. But I don’t think you’ve persuaded me enough.” His voice was oozing with lust, filling the room with powerful suggestion.   
  
Draco began to pant. He eyed the room once more, centring on the wardrobe. Peeling a sock away from the side of it he studied its shape, noting the elevation and curve of the top. It was certain to be a place neither Weasley nor Granger’s bottoms had ever touched. Bending Harry over the blasted thing might not be the height of romance, but it would do. He looked at his watch, smirking. “We’ve missed the beginning. We’ll have to find something else to entertain us now.”  
  
Instinct told Harry to back up. Pleasant surprise brightened his features. “Oh, really, doll? What do you have in mind?”  
  
Advancing as quickly as Harry retreated, Draco caught him by the wrist before he tripped over a mound of Ron’s underpants. Pressed tightly together, their intentions ground between them while their tongues battled for victory. Trousers fell, shirts raised, and cute little knickers were torn clear off. “Damn, my favourite pair,” whimpered Draco, holding up Harry’s demolished garments now fit to reside in the flat.   
  
“I’m sure you’ll get  _over--ooh_!” cried Harry, finding himself lifted up and deposited over the wardrobe like a sack of potatoes. His back collided with the ancient wood, bending him awkwardly over the rounded top.   
  
Draco tipped his head at the bizarre angle Harry was lying. “Wow, well…that looks uncomfortable.”   
  
Harry winced. “You think?”  
  
“I’ll make it all worth it, I swear.” With a regretted cringe as he climbed over his lover, Draco curved his body around him in order to taste Harry’s lips. Wrapped up in long limbs, lips parted and tongues stroked along the other to muffle the whimpered mews. Neither of them heard the front door open and close, or the shuffling of rubbish and shredding of clothing outside. Nothing could penetrate the barrier of love they found themselves in despite the sparks of agony shooting through Harry’s lower back.  
  
The wardrobe teetered on rickety clawed feet as their passion grew. It moaned under their weight while drawers fell out onto the floor. “Oh, Harry,” cooed Draco, lost in the writhing and stroking limbs he so dearly loved. “Have I convinced you yet?”  
  
Harry dug in, arching his hips to accommodate to the pain and pleasure on his either side. “I don’t…I’m not entirely…I--” The door to the bedroom flew open, and Ron fell inside with Hermione clinging to his body. Both were equally naked, unaware of anything other than themselves.   
  
Draco screamed in abject horror.   
  
Frozen in shock, all four of them stared blankly at each other for several unbelievably uncomfortable seconds. “Ha! We beat them!” shouted Ron while he victoriously pumped his fist, feeling quite superior. “We shagged on that wardrobe first! Last night, in fact!”  
  
Harry could feel Draco begin to dry-heave.   
  
Hermione snorted in righteous redemption.   
  
Sliding them off of the side and covering up as much as their nudity as possible, Harry gave Draco a nod. “Yes, about me moving home…let’s go—right now.”  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If you liked this gimme kudos, thanks!


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